


That Certain Female

by beautifulmidnight



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: F/M, Romance, Romantic Friendship, Trauma, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-01
Updated: 2012-04-01
Packaged: 2017-11-02 20:46:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifulmidnight/pseuds/beautifulmidnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leon, Claire, and Sherry in the aftermath of Raccoon City.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Certain Female

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after the events of Resident Evil 2, and bridges a gap between RE2 and the book 'Underworld' by S.D. Perry.  
> This was inspired by the beginning of 'Underworld.'

Leon stared at himself in the fogged up mirror, the steam from the shower clouding up his reflection. His face was pale and dark circles rimmed his clear grey eyes. Their usual youthful curiosity and vibrancy had dulled into something hollow and dispassionate, like something had sucked his life-force, leaving him a numb husk of a human being.

He didn't know why he had the shower on as he couldn't take one. Rebecca Chambers had cleaned the wound on his shoulder and stitched him up. She informed him to keep the stitches dry for 24-hours, at the very least. After that he could take a decent shower, she promised. He touched the skin surrounding the injury and winced. It was ugly and red, puffed up with irritation at being stretched and pulled.

If he hadn't taken that bullet, Ada could've…

No, he couldn't think about Ada right now.

He took the paper-thin washcloth that Rebecca had given him and dipped it in the sink full of soapy warm water. He sighed as he wrung it out, watching the excess water drip back into the sink with the fascination of someone watching grass grow.

"Oh, I'm sorry—"

He turned and found Claire Redfield peeking in the doorway, holding a towel through the crack.

"No, it's all right. Come in," he draped the wash cloth over the faucet.

"You sure?" she said with a note of hesitancy.

"Yeah, I'm decent."

"Okay."

She came in wearing a snug white S.T.A.R.S. RPD t-shirt, faded from many wearings and washings. It had once belonged to Rebecca so it was especially small on her frame, and she also sported a pair of supremely baggy S.T.A.R.S. black sweat pants that belonged to John Andrews. She had the drawstring tied tight to keep the pants from falling off her slim waist, but she still had to hold them up with one hand when she moved. The socks she wore were two sizes too large (they did belong to David Trapp, after all). They were impeccably white and, Leon guessed, probably smelled like bleach. Her red hair which had been pulled back in a ponytail the entire time they were in Raccoon, now hung in loose waves about her shoulders, cascading beautifully down her back like an amber waterfall.

"It feels wonderful in here," she breathed, putting the toilet lid down. She sat on the edge of the toilet and laid the towel across her lap. She rested her chin in her hands and stared off longingly at the shower stall.

"Yeah, it does. I actually started the shower before I remembered I couldn't actually take one," he laughed ruefully.

He picked the wash cloth back up and dabbed around his wound, gritting his teeth as he did so. Claire frowned.

"Let me help you with that," she took the cloth from him and wet it again.

"Thanks Claire," he said. "You don't have to do this though."

"Shut up," she replied tiredly. "Just stay still."

Leon didn't know how she managed, but her way of cleaning him was gentle and soothing. The tension in his muscles melted under her careful touch. After she finished his chest and back, she moved onto his arms and lastly, his face. Despite the circumstances they had just been through, Leon found himself smiling slightly when she brushed aside his hair to wipe his forehead. She drained the sink of the soapy water and turned the faucet on, alternating between rinsing the wash cloth and wringing it out. She wiped the soapy water off and handed him the towel she brought when she finished.

"How's Sherry?" he asked, thinking of the young girl he and Claire rescued from the RPD building.

"She's downstairs in the kitchen, helping Rebecca cook dinner. Quite possibly bothering the crap out of John and David at the same time," Claire answered. "Oh, dinner is mac and cheese with hot dogs, by the way. Yum."

Leon chuckled. Claire's sarcastic tone was meant to be playful, but he knew the both of them were grateful for any kind of sustenance they could get. Macaroni and cheese, hot dogs, Cup O'Noodles soup, bags of bargain bin cereal…the safe house was loaded with cheap groceries. Leon knew Sherry would've preferred frozen pizza and soda, but she kept her opinion to herself, putting on a brave face that one so young shouldn't have to.

After he, Claire, and Sherry escaped from the Umbrella lab in Raccoon City, David Trapp and Rebecca Chambers had been in a van very far out on the outskirts of the city. The young medic and former S.T.A.R.S. captain had brought them to a safe house in Maine and gave them medical attention, food, and a place to sleep. It was a temporary safe home until …until what? Until they heard from Barry Burton, Jill Valentine, and Chris Redfield, Claire said.

It was hard to believe that in just a few days his future had gone from being bright and shiny to hell in a hand basket. He lost his Jeep, his apartment, some of his possessions, his career, a woman he had a grown to like…The icing on the cake was he could be dead right now, but by some miracle, he wasn't. Leon didn't like thinking about his own mortality.

"You look deep in thought," Claire remarked.

"Yeah."

Claire didn't press it. She held out a black t-shirt and went to turn off the shower. Leon unfolded the shirt and noticed it was an S.T.A.R.S. RPD shirt, with a small logo in the upper left breast area. The name "Chris" was written underneath of it. He put it on and felt ridiculous. The shirt was three times too large for him. He knew that Chris was slightly more built than he was, at least in the torso and arm areas, but this was just silly.

Claire giggled. "Wow, I never thought Chris' clothes were that big!"

"How did Rebecca get a hold of his clothes anyway?"

"She raided Chris' place for anything useful before splitting town, I guess. Maybe she wanted to auction it off or something, make some quick cash," she shrugged.

"Guess I can't really complain. I needed to change clothes."

"Me too," Claire said softly. She brightened. "Let's go see if dinner is ready."

Leon nodded, following the redhead to the dining room.

~

Several hours later, Leon was lying in bed, his stomach full of grocery-store brand mac and cheese mixed in with cheap hot dogs. He was so hungry he ate the meal like it would be the last one he'd ever eat, and it tasted so delicious he had three helpings. The only person who ate more than him was Sherry, who had four. After dinner they had taken her to the airport, leaving her with another trusted former S.T.A.R.S. member. Rebecca had found Sherry's Aunt Kate who had been living out in California. Kate was Sherry's closest living relative and a high powered lawyer. If anyone could keep Umbrella away from Sherry for awhile, it would be Kate.

Now it was a little after ten, and he had retired for the night. His dinner was sitting like a brick in his stomach, and he couldn't sleep, no matter how exhausted he felt. Plus he had that dull ache in his shoulder, thanks to the bullet that tore through it a day or so ago. It also didn't help he was constantly on edge. Every noise caused his heart to pound and reach for the gun under his pillow. He kept his shoes right at the edge of the bed, and a duffel bag on the floor by the nightstand was crammed full of ammo.

He couldn't rest easy knowing the people responsible for wiping Raccoon City off the map were after him and his friends. And Sherry…how could William and Annette Birkin do all this to their 12-year-old daughter? He had to do something. He had to fight back. For Sherry. For Ada…

A creaking noise spurred him out of his thoughts and he sat up, grabbing the gun under his pillow and aiming at the door. His shoulder screamed at him in pain and he bit his lip to keep from crying out.

"Leon?"

Leon sunk back down on his bed, shoving the gun back to its former hiding place. Claire Redfield stood in the doorway, her red hair shining like a red-gold beacon in the moonlight. She was dressed in her S.T.A.R.S. shirt still but her sweat pants were replaced by a pair of sleeper boxer shorts.

"Yeah?"

"I know this sounds stupid…but…can I sleep with you?" she asked sheepishly.

It took him a minute to realize what kind of sleep she meant. Leon was glad it was dark, so Claire couldn't see the embarrassed and bewildered expression on his face.

"Is something wrong? If you want to, you can take my bed," he offered, starting to get up.

"I—I'm a little afraid. I was having nightmares. I know it's stupid. I mean, I'm nineteen; I shouldn't need to be reassured. Sorry to have bothered you," she apologized hastily. She turned to go but Leon stood up and grabbed her arm.

"No, Claire. Come here, its okay," he pulled her towards the bed. "I wasn't really sleeping anyway."

"Thanks," he could hear the relieved smile in her voice.

The two friends climbed into the double bed, pulling the blankets over themselves and getting comfortable. Claire surprised Leon by curling up next to him, resting her head on his non-injured shoulder and draping an arm across his chest. Without even thinking, he wrapped a protective arm around her. She snuggled closer to him and sniffled, and something warm and wet landed on his chest.

"Claire, are you crying?"

"No…"

"Claire, it's all right to cry."

It was almost as if he had uttered some magic word, because a torrent of tears came bursting forth out of the young woman. Her body wracked violently with sobs, and for the hundredth time within the last few days, Leon's heart broke. He said nothing, letting her cry and talk in unintelligible words. When she had finally calmed down, he reached over for a towel he was keeping by the bedside (in case his stitches started oozing) and passed it to her.

"Sorry," she muttered after wiping her face. She dabbed his chest, mopping up the mess of tears she left on his skin. "I—I just couldn't hold it in anymore. I haven't felt safe for one second. But when you—hugged me—I felt better. You've been such a good friend to me, from the moment we met."

Leon had an idea. He reached for something else on the night stand. It was a leather detective badge holder on a chain; a gift from a friend upon graduating from the police academy. Even though Leon explained he wasn't a detective yet and wouldn't have use for it, he kept it anyway. After he changed out of his RPD uniform, he stuck his badge in it and wore it around his neck until Rebecca put in his stitches. He took it off at night because it was uncomfortable to sleep with.

He put it over Claire's head and let it settle around her neck. His lips brushed her forehead and he lay back down.

"What is this?" she asked, holding it up in the light. "Is this your badge? Why are you giving this to me?"

"The same reason you gave Sherry your vest. Because you need comfort, and having my badge always brought me comfort, so I thought that, you know, it might help you," he replied.

"Ohhhh," she breathed. "Leon, thank-you. Thank-you so much."

She leaned over and kissed his cheek, and Leon found himself taking a hold of her. Their faces were now inches apart, and they locked eyes, each one almost afraid to turn away. She was so pretty, and he wanted to do whatever it took to make her smile again.

"Claire," he whispered.

"Leon," she whispered back.

He moved in closer to kiss her, but right when his lips were about to meet hers, the door opened and light from the hallway spilled into the room. Claire jumped off of Leon and took a seat against the wall, her face flaming crimson.

David Trapp was in the doorway, and he looked as embarrassed as Claire and Leon felt.

"I know it's horribly short notice, but we just got word as to where Chris, Jill, and Barry are. We're leaving in fifteen minutes to get to the airport. Whatever you two were about to do, make it quick," David said crisply. "And try to do everything as quietly as possible. We think the house is being watched."

"Thanks David," Claire nodded, looking away.

"We weren't doing anything," Leon mumbled.

David left, and Claire got up from her place on the floor. She held Leon's badge against her chest and gave him a smile. "I—I'm going to get ready."

"Okay."

Leon crossed the hall and relieved himself, then went to his bedroom to get dressed. Jeans, sneakers, t-shirt, pullover sweatshirt…none of it really fit. He couldn't wait to get some of his own clothes, because Christopher Redfield's just weren't cutting it. He packed up his duffel with more ammo and his knife and loaded his gun.

He ran a hand through his hair to fix it and then left his room. Claire left her room at the same time and the two knocked into each other. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail with bangs hanging down the sides, just like the day he met her. She still wore the too tight S.T.A.R.S. shirt, but was wearing what looked like her own jeans, because they fit her exceptionally well. He wondered where she had gotten them.

"Everyone's already in the garage. They're waiting for us," she informed him.

She was right. John was in the driver's seat and David was in the passenger side. Rebecca was in the back, surrounded by weapons and duffel bags. They had ripped out the back seats to make room for more equipment. After loading their bags, Claire and Leon climbed in, and Leon closed the van door behind them. The garage door was opening, and he hurriedly took a seat across from Claire.

Everyone in the van was deathly quiet. Nobody wanted to say a word for fear it would dispel the luck they were currently holding. They stopped at a red light and two black sedans pulled up behind them. An eerie feeling creeped into Leon's stomach, but he shook it off. He was being paranoid. They rounded a few more corners, and were ten minutes from the air field when both sedans appeared again. The sedans rolled their windows down and gunshots were fired.

"Oh shit," Leon groaned. "SHIT."

He went for his gun and found Claire doing the same. But before she popped the window of the van open, he saw her clutch the badge he had gifted her, giving it a squeeze, closing her eyes as she did so. Their eyes met for a brief moment and she smiled at him.

As much as he hated Umbrella, he had to admit something…if it wasn't for them, he might have never met the most amazing person he had ever come into contact with:

Claire Redfield.


End file.
